Страница 13 из 43
She pretended not to notice his anxiety, but she did notice.
It made her own nervousness increase, memories of a thousand fantasies crushing down on her. Fantasies that had begun so much like this, only now it was real. He was here.
“Speak, Evret. Tell me what’s become of you since we last saw each other.”
He pulled himself up, like bracing himself for a blow. His expression became stoic and professional, his gaze latching on the painting over Levana’s shoulder.
“I was grateful to be given this time to make arrangements for my deceased wife, as I know you’re aware, Your Highness, and also dealing with the effects of her business.” His voice started to break, but he recovered smoothly. “I’ve spent this past week clearing her needlework shop and auctioning off what assets I could.”
Levana’s mouth pursed in a surprised O. She hadn’t considered what might need to be done when someone died. After her parents’ death, the thaumaturges and servants had dealt with everything.
“I … am sorry,” she stammered, thinking it might be an appropriate thing to say. “I know you’ve been through a lot.”
He nodded, as if to accept her compassion.
“And how is the child?”
“She is well, Your Highness, thank you.” He sucked in a breath and held out the bundle in his arms. “I want you to have this.”
“Thank you, Evret. What is it?”
Levana hoped that, by not moving from her spot on the divan, it would compel Evret to come closer. To sit beside her. To finally look her in the eyes.
Instead, he unfolded the fabric and spread it out, revealing the elaborate quilt of Earth that Solstice had made, half of it pooling past his feet.
Levana gasped. It was every bit as striking as she remembered—even more so when surrounded by the luxuriousness of her royal chambers.
“Sol made it,” Evret said, his voice heavy, “but I think you know that already.”
Levana sca
His face started to crumple, and he seemed to be holding his emotions together through stubborn determination. “She told me that you’d come into her shop, Your Highness. She said you admired it.” He gulped. “I thought she would like for you to have it—as you were her princess, as you are mine. And I also thought … I wanted to show my gratitude to you, for persuading Her Majesty to let me go, when Sol was … You’ll never know what that meant for me, Your Highness. You’ll have my gratitude until the day I die.”
Levana cleared her throat, eyeing the quilt. She loved everything about it—the design, the impeccable craftsmanship. She loved that Evret was giving it to her. But she also knew that she could never look on something that his wife had made and not feel a twinge of resentment.
“The quilt is extraordinary,” she finally said, standing. “If it’s all right with you, I’m going to store it somewhere safe, and we can give it to your daughter when she’s older. She’s the one that should have it.”
Evret’s eyes widened with surprise, then, slowly, softened into a hesitant smile. “I … thank you, Your Highness. That’s…” He looked away, pressing his lips tight with emotion. “That is incredibly kind. You are incredibly kind. Thank you.”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. I don’t want your gratitude, Evret.”
He let his arms relax too, letting the quilt sag in front of him. “My friendship, then,” he said. “If you still want it. Though I’m merely a guard, and not deserving of such a friend.”
His smile was so u
“No, Evret. You must know that I think of you as more than … than simply a friend.”
The grin froze. His brow twitched with a hint of panic. “Your Highness—I…” He shook his head. “I didn’t want my coming here to…”
“To what?” she urged, taking a step toward him.
“To give the wrong impression,” he said, softening the words with another tentative smile. “You’re a sweet girl. Sometimes I think that you’re … you’re confused, but I know you mean well. And I know you’re lonely. I see how you are around the rest of the court.”
Levana bristled, mortified to think of all he had seen. Cha
“I know you need a friend. I can help you. I can be there for you.” Dropping one corner of the quilt, he dragged a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, this is coming out wrong. I didn’t mean that to sound so…”
“Condescending?”
He flinched. “I care about you. That’s what I’m trying to say. I’m here for you, if you ever need someone to talk to, someone you can be yourself around.”
Levana bit her lower lip, irritated, but also filled with such adoration for this man that she wanted to weep. Her gaze traced the continents of Earth, the patchwork of raw edges and shimmering gold thread. She inhaled, deeply.
“I know,” she said. “I know you care about me. You’re the only one who does.” Smiling bashfully, she dared to meet his eyes again. “First the pendant and now the quilt. It seems as though you’re trying to give me the whole world, Sir Hayle.”
He shook his head. “Only some kindness, Your Highness.”
Her smile brightened as she stepped closer, her bare feet treading across the luxurious quilt, crossing over Antarctica, the Atlantic Ocean … “Are you sure?” she asked, imitating the seductive way she’d seen Cha
His attention had dropped to her feet crossing over the quilt. His brow furrowed. “Your Highness?”
“I’m not confused, Evret. I’m not lonely.” She grasped the top edge of the quilt, and Evret let go. She let it fall to the ground, and his alarmed expression returned.
Evret stepped back, but without even realizing she was doing it, Levana reached out with her gift, subtly holding his feet in place. “Wha—?”
“I’m in love with you, Evret.”
The concern deepened, a hundredfold. “Your Highness—no, that’s not—”
“I know. I know. You were happily married. You loved your wife very much. I get it. But she’s gone now, and I’m here, and don’t you see? This was how it was meant to happen. This was always how it was meant to happen.”
His mouth was hanging open now, staring at her as if he didn’t recognize her. As if he hadn’t been smiling so sweetly at her a moment before, saying all those endearing things he’d said. As if he hadn’t already confessed the truth.
Friendship. Friendship.
No. The pendant, the quilt, his being here all alone in her chambers.
This was not a man who wanted to be friends. He was hers, as much as she was his.
He held up his hands to block her as she inched forward again. “Stop this,” he hissed, keeping his voice low, as if worried that the guards outside the door might hear, might interrupt. “This is what I was afraid of. I know that you have”—he struggled for a moment to find a word—“feelings for me, Your Highness, and I am flattered, but I’m trying to—”
“I could be her, you know,” Levana interrupted. “If that makes it easier for you.”
His brow twitched, dismayed. “What?”
“I’m very good at it. You saw … you saw how convincing I can be.”
“What are you—”
The glamour of Solstice Hayle came easier this time, a little bit easier every time. Levana was sure she’d committed the woman to memory, from the slender arch of her eyebrows to the subtle curl at the end of her long, dark hair.
Evret recoiled from her, though his feet remained bolted to the floor. “Princess. Stop it.”
“But this is what you want, isn’t it? This way you can have both. I’ll be your wife. I’ll be the mother of your child. Pretty soon people will forget all about the one that died, it will just be me and you and our perfect family, and you’ll be a prince, Evret, which will be so much better than being a guard and—”